Did Miss Ryder Hire "Eddie Valiant"
to Case Out "yours truly". . . .
. . . . . ?
"Cloak n' Dagger Crime-Busta's. . . . . . Fightin' Fire with Fire!"
If
you search under the name, "Winona Ryder" under the Google "News Alert" section,
a certain story comes up. . . . . namely that a private detective who may have
once done work for our cautionary princess of soft step, is in legal "hot water"
for attempted witness bribery in an unrelated case. It leaves one to speculate,
if under a certain point. . . . . I may have been personally investigated for-- which you
will soon see-- are very wise reasons in this business.
First, understand that the best "private eyes" are paladins, men of honor, who shoot straight and speak the truth and ride back into town with their mission accomplished. . . . . whether as information gatherers or deal brokers, but whatever you want to call them-- "the knife that cuts through the crap" in a business full of big-talkers and quaky-legged "liberal arts types" who need, evidently-- "A BIG DETECTIVE" to go in and do the deeds they are too constitutionally-unconfident "to do themselves" whether from "threats" or "curiosity pieces" or "persons of interest". The pure majesty of being a detective is the fact that you don't have to flash a knife, but just put on "a bulldog face" as if you are a man in power "and folks are push-over's".
I would have certain suspicions. . . . . for instance, wondering if my post office where I keep my box had been "cased" or if a bug had been placed on my phone with the signs. In a world of schemers, con artists, and J.T. Leroy-types anglin' for sympathy, you bet that anyone prominent is going to need verification. . . . . the ole' Ronald Reagan principle, "trust, but verify". You know, just to make sure that the joker in question ain't laughin' about how he's going to spend the money after he corners the actress and extorts her for millions.
A big problem I've had growing up, and I'm sure many do as well, is being from an unreliable household where the adults were into flaky, cruddy things and could not exactly hand down solid habits that self-perpetuated themselves to victory and achievement. Assumptions of how to live, breathe, and move through the world. . . . . if not a philosophy of how to deal with your fellow creatures and maintain one's integrity toward "the higher end".
In the haunted house of the modern condition, it's as if we're walking across a dimly-lit floor with a candle, unsure of which plank is solid and which isn't-- what we can rest our weight upon. There is misguided faith, rallying "calls to confidence" that are uproariously "upended" as we find ourselves wedged in the floor up to our waists.
Then, as guideposts, ropes dangle from the ceiling and we hold on to them for "security"-- not so much that they will actually "hold", but just so "something is better than nothing". We move from hand-hold to hand-hold and find ourselves existentially-stranded "with nowhere else to go" and stay put. Others, not quite running around "in a house of shadow" to this magnitude, may throw rocks, or even "cut your rope to a thread" until it collapses. Then what do you do?
The point of this website was to provide illumination so Winona and people like me "can see the floor" and understand "they don't need the rope", and walk around some of those more gangrenous pit-falls of the Jewish, (half-Jewish) condition or whatever.
"HOLY SHIT!"
-- "My work here is done".
-- "Glad I'm being paid by the clock".
-- "Catch a 'red-eye' flight home to LAX".
-- "That Broad must really be worth it to him".
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"You want a-nuther song? Well I ain't plain' one mutherfuckin' note until someone comes up here and puts sum money in my god-damned tip-jar! You know I only came here for one purpose. . . . . to take yor fuckin' cash! Why, I could make more profit puttin' out my meth-head neighbor's asshole and ringin' a bell, hollerin' 'Man for sale! Man for sale!'
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
(Rheeee of Crickets)
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
("I heard that, Missy!")
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